Was She Worth It?
by Greentreetall
Summary: Dear Edward, you broke my effing heart. I hope she was worth it. Bella. A series of letters on heartbreak and moving on. Based on actual events. Not HEA.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: hi all, yup, this is a re-post, you can thank the person who reported this for that -_-**

**Also, some said that this was a little self absorbed of the character, but please try and understand this is how she deals with the pain of not feeling good enough. I know it may sound petty but sometimes telling yourself they'll be unhappy without you is the only way to stop the tears. **

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Dear Edward,

I can see it now.

My work printed on the glossy pages of that fashion magazine.

And you, flipping through the pages, running your caffeine-hyped fingers over my face and new name.

You hear the sound of those high heels you have come to hate and you quickly close the cover and flip it over. She wouldn't like to know you have always been keeping track of what I photograph.

She comes in and sits across from you and frowns at the magazine in front of you, but says nothing. She doesn't want another fight.

It would make too many.

You think back to your high school days and sigh; you wish you could go back in time. You can remember the way your locker door squeaked when you opened it, and the smell of the pens that leaked on the middle shelf. You can feel the weight of your backpack because of all your chemistry books.

You had so much promise.

The sound of my quick steps sends an evil smile across your face, you love the fact that I'm pathetic enough to run past you with my head down. She comes up and grabs your hand and but your heart doesn't leap from her touch like it did with mine. You look down at her and smile past the small twinge of unease that has somehow worked its way into your stomach, shaking off that discomfort you feel all too often.

You look past her at my retreating back, my ponytail swinging from its place under my hat.

You wonder when I started to run.

She says something but you weren't listening, you smile and nod anyways and kiss her cheek. She smiles, she has no idea, and you want it to stay that way.

You know people talk about you now, and what you did, you feel something like quilt coil in your belly, but that can't be right, because that would mean you care if I'm hurt.

You close your locker and push the lock closed. The smell of her perfume secretly makes you sick but you hold back that grimace as she embraces you.

But you wanted this, remember?

It was your words that broke us, not mine. You can tell yourself how much of it was both of us, but you _know_ and you always will, that you did it.

The sound of her banging the morning table brings you back from the past, she opened to magazine, my smiling face looks back at you. You snatch it out of her hands and yell at her to stay out your private stuff. She yells back that it was right there in the open, you push your chair back and leave the room, the sound of her crying follows you.

The sound of the school bell haunts you as you walk to your bedroom. You notice I don't eat lunch with my friends and you wonder where I went. But you don't go looking for me. You're too stubborn for that, but I always loved that about you.

You're sitting at a table with her, and no one else. She likes it, you aren't so sure. Sometimes you think back to me and how I liked to laugh. You miss always laughing. Now things seem too serious.

But you moved on, remember?

Barely a day after, I was history, remember?

My friends hate you, they look at you with disgust, sometimes you look at yourself the same way.

I avoid you, and you find it's getting harder to forget me. Now my face, my smile, my laugh haunt you and you wish it would go away.

My family all tell me that you will regret hurting me in the future, so how's that going?

Do you regret it? Do I haunt your dreams, and send your heart racing every time you think of me touching you? Do you miss how I used to kiss you?

Does she notice?

Does the way your eyes linger register to her? Do you hide it well?

Her fingers wrap around your leg and you flinch, glancing down at her and forcing a smile.

People tell me you repulse them, watching you flaunt your new toy in front of me.

I push away the words because I don't want to know.

When it comes to you now, I just don't want to know.

Sometimes I wonder, do you go on the bus just to watch me cry? Does it make you feel better to know you still have that effect on me?

I wonder when you became so cruel.

You tell me I don't need to get off.

That it doesn't matter to you that I'm on there too.

I want to curse at you. Scream until my lungs are raw because you don't understand.

I walk the extra hour down the highway because watching you go home with her kills me inside.

Don't you know that I'm not as strong as I play myself to be?

Doesn't it show to you, someone who knows me better than anyone?

You slam the bedroom door, pressing the lock—the one you thought would be used for the other things so long ago – down and toss the magazine across the room.

How did it come to be like this?

You glance at the pictures of her and you at prom that now sit along the dresser. Dust blankets the glass diluting the red of from your shirt that compliments the red of the rose on her wrist.

I remember the kisses you shared with her and the way my heart skipped that painful beat when I saw you there. The way the air choked me, and my feet stumbling along the stone stairs. I remember the sturdy hands of a friend as she pulled me away from your smiling faces.

I remember the pain.

I drank a lot that night.

I wanted to forget.

It didn't work.

You remember graduation.

The way we all lined the gym in our dresses of black and red.

Could you tell I was nervous?

That I stumbled on the first step of the stairs?

Or were you to focused on her?

I sat beside a boy who liked me and he ignored me.

I messed it up with him. Hurt him. And I know, I acted just like you.

Would you be disappointed in me if you knew what I did? That I only kissed him because I missed you? Would you even recognize the me I have become?

Sometimes I don't recognize myself.

The summer came and you had little life outside her.

You missed those parties.

No one invited you.

But that's what you wanted, wasn't it?

Her and no one else?

Did you forget that this is a small town? That the stories we create are retold to any ear that will listen?

Everyone _knew. _

You remember when you messaged me to tell me your new cell phone number.

In case I needed it.

She frowned when you sent it to me. She knew you hadn't forgotten mine like you said you had.

It was that summer you told me you would miss me when you left. When you told me how much you still remembered about me.

Do you still remember now?

She knocks on the door. A tentative tap against the hard wood.

You sigh, rubbing your hands along your face before turning your back on the memories and opening the door.

She flings herself into your arms. Her makeup running down her cheeks, long black patterns painting her pale skin and staining your shirt. Her greying hair falls over your biceps and tickles your nose, you bite your lip against the urge to pull away and wipe your face.

She mumbles that she's sorry; that I don't matter, that she knows you love her.

You lean your chin on her head and nod, you know this already.

But this is your life and you apologize to, you're to haggard to argue anymore.

You say you'll throw the magazine away, just like you've lied before.

She nods and sighs, content that she has you for another day.

And you sigh to, trapped in a life you thought you wanted for another day.

You remember the easy laughs, the smiles that used to bring out your own and you wonder if I make someone else experience that, make someone's heart break when I leave, and form when I return like you used to say I did for you.

I remember that one and only e-mail you ever sent me.

The one where you told me you can see the two of you married and happy.

I remember the pain those words caused me.

The way they ripped through the skin and bone that surrounded my heart, ripping away the little bit I healed.

And now, I wonder, were those predictions true?

Did you get all you ever hoped for and more?

In the end, was the pain you put me through, the betrayal, and lies worth it?

Was she worth it?

And are you happy?

I hope so.

Together forever is an awfully long time to be alone.

Bella.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Edward,

I miss you, I can't lie and I say I don't. Not when I've done so much lying already. This _needs_ to be the truth. It _has_ to be.

Maybe it will help me, maybe telling you will finally give me that closure I need so desperately. It might cure me, might teach my heart that it's time to move one, because you obviously have. It might just save me.

This is my confession, a series of words I have strung together that will never really tell you how I feel, because they are just words, nothing more than words. I can't drag you into my heart and unleash the pain I have hidden behind a wall. I can't force you to feel my heartbreak, not when you caused it. But this is my only chance to tell you what it's like to see you, what it's like to have your heart broken by the one person you trusted enough to never do it. This is my chance to tell you that I meant what I said I would love you no matter what, because unlike you I haven't fallen out of love, because unlike you ... I never will.

I wish I could tell you I have moved on, that I am no longer dying from the pain, that I can look back on us and laugh at the funny times and smile at the beautiful.

I wish I could come face to face with you and throw my arms around you, and have you tell me how sorry you are, how I didn't deserve this pain; that you want to take it back.

But those are just wishes, and I stopped believing wishes come true that moment you walked out of my life leaving me broken-hearted and alone.

I want you to know I go over that last moment over and over, trying to figure out what went wrong; how I could have fixed it. How I could've been better, because maybe if I was better you would have stilled wanted me.

I'm still trying to understand it all, because to me it makes no sense. I don't understand how you could've lied. But I don't think I ever will, maybe it's better I never figure it out.

I trusted you, with everything I was, and you threw it back into my face. Tossed me away and moved on like I was nothing to you, like we hadn't been through so much together, like you had already gotten over me.

Maybe I should've known it would end this way, maybe I would've been saved, but then I think about you. About how much I miss you, love you, need you and I can't bring myself to regret a single word between us. Can't bring myself to even think that you were going to hurt me from the beginning. I can't bring myself to that conclusion, because somewhere down the line you did love me, right?

At some point, I was your world, the reason you got up in the morning and tried to look your best. The reason you smiled, wasn't I?

I never used to doubt it, it was always known to me that I meant something to you, but now, as I sit alone with only my thoughts I begin to question us, and everything we had. I wonder if you do the same.

That is, if I even cross your mind. Sometimes, I wish I knew that answer, than others I am glad I don't.

I hope you know that I don't hate you. I can't bring myself to hate you; no matter what you did I can't hate you. It might sound weird. Fuck, it sounds insane even to my ears. I often wonder _why_ I don't hate you, because God knows you deserve it, but I _can't_, I just can't.

I'm trying so hard, trying to avoid you, trying to forget you, trying to feel nothing, trying to cope, and I don't understand why I can't. I wish I could, instead I sit here and cry over these words, like you will ever see them, and wish for things to be different. But they won't be, and I get it, I just wish I didn't.

I miss us; miss what we had ... miss you. I miss you so much it hurts to even think about it, but I'm_ always_ thinking about it.

It hurts more to miss you then it did to watch you actually leave. I know that sounds weird, but when you left I had the stupid idea in my head that you were coming back, because every time you left before you always came back.

But now, missing you is worse because I know you aren't coming back, there won't be a next time, won't be a hello kiss and hug, a whispered "I love you" because you're gone, and you aren't coming back.

I hate myself for thinking about you, hate me because I need to stop causing myself so much pain every single day, but I don't know how to do it. After being with you for so long I have become half a person, with you being the part that makes me whole. So forgive me when I try and explain to you how alone I feel without my other half.

I know you don't feel the same loneliness as I do and it kills to have come to that realization. But I know it, and there is no way to go back to my beautiful ignorance I used to live in.

I haven't been able to find the right words to tell you what it's like to see you and know you're gone. But maybe there just aren't any words for that kind of pain, maybe there just isn't a way to tell you what it's like to see you and have my heart stop and break at the same time. It's the most pain I have ever felt.

But I want you to be happy, even if it's not with me. Even if I have to feel this pain I want you to always be happy. I care about you more than anyone and I never want you to be alone, never want you to be in pain, and even though I miss you, I can't force something you don't want, and because I love you I have to try and heal, because I love you I have to let go.

I don't need an explanation for your actions because I know very well, I don't need to be told how much you don't love me, because trust me ... I know. I don't need you to even understand my pain, because I know you can't. This isn't meant to make you come back, because you won't. It's not made to relive happy memories, because right now, mine are all shadowed by these past months. It's meant to help me, because I'm sinking, and I don't know what to do.

I lost my best friend, the person I told everything to. I still cry every night, I still break every time I see you, I put on a fake smile and ridiculous laugh and hide what I'm feeling because I don't want you to see what's happened to me, I don't want you to know. Maybe that's unhealthy but it's better isn't it? This way you don't know and I seem fine, I seem strong like so many people say I am.

A wasted compliment I would say, but again I smile because I want to be strong, I'm just not.

I wish I could tell you this face to face, wish I was strong enough to speak to you and not cry, but so far I'm not, so I'm writing this stupid letter to try and tell you. Of course it won't mean anything to you, but I need to tell you, need you to know, remember, and not forget me.

I wish I could tell you something happy, something you would be proud of, but I'm weak, and I'm not lying in this.

I feel alone, even when I'm surrounded, even when people hug me and tell me I will be okay, it doesn't feel that way.

I don't know how to end this; don't know what to say to wrap everything up. I guess I'll confess that I think about you all the time, and I regret not telling you I loved you in person, but like I said, I'm weak, and until I'm strong I'm just going to cry behind my bedroom door, and smile when someone asks if I'm okay.

I'm not okay, not even close, but I'm trying.

Bella.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Edward,

Months have gone by.

Now it's a year.

And yes, it's still hard, sometimes it's unbearable.

But there's something about me that wasn't there before.

I'm happy, even with the pain; I can smile because I have a reason to.

Yes, I'm still single, but I don't need someone to "complete" me, to make me laugh.

For once I don't feel second rate to someone else.

For once I don't feel like I'm walking humiliation.

I hated the times when people pitied me.

The days when I couldn't walk down the halls without those sympathy glances.

They never left me.

Always there.

And then there were times when things seemed bleak.

Moments when I scared even myself.

The times when nothing felt worth the effort.

Everything I had worked for, gone.

It didn't matter anymore.

School seemed meaningless.

I didn't talk. I didn't eat. I didn't smile.

Fuck, I didn't _live_.

I was stuck on autopilot. Viewing my life through a haze.

Everything felt like a dream.

A nightmare.

I didn't sleep so maybe it was my mind playing my dreams during the day.

It didn't matter.

I was broken.

The days blurred together until it was February and you were turning 18.

I remember that day.

I spent hours waiting for the right moment to message you and wish you happy birthday.

I don't think I had been that terrified in months.

You answered me so simply, and honestly, my heart shattered all over again.

I remember two months after that when we talked face to face.

It was easy.

Simple.

And you forgot her name.

Just for a second.

But for me, time stopped.

Silly, how something so meaningless to you, meant the world to me.

That was the last time I spoke to your face.

You weren't allowed anymore.

I cried for two days after that.

Weird, because I don't cry anymore. I have no more tears to give you.

I don't remember anything after that, and suddenly it was my turn to turn 18.

I waited.

All day.

But nothing came.

You forgot.

I should have been used to it by then, but I cried.

That was the day I promised to try.

Really try to forget you.

Because you had forgotton me.

And it was time.

Summer came, and I was happy.

I was alive.

Living the life I had always envied.

I loved the sun for the first time in years.

I spent hours in the water.

Burning my skin till I was bright red.

But it was okay, because it felt real.

I loved things being real.

It was August when you messaged me your new number.

In case I needed it. Your words. Not mine.

I drank the night after, and everything was broken, because that night I needed things to be fake.

You told me you hoped I was okay.

I lied.

You told me you hoped I was happy.

I lied.

You told me you wanted to keep talking to me after you were gone.

You lied.

It's been two months since then.

I thought I'd miss your messages.

The way that jolt of nausea would consume me with every message.

A once welcomed feeling.

But I don't.

It's better this way.

And I feel lighter.

Sometimes I wonder what made you go back on your word.

If you're just too busy.

Or if she forbade it again.

As much as I wonder, I can't bring myself to care.

It's been a year since I thought my world ended.

And honestly, sometimes it still hurts.

But underneath all that pain, I know everything is going to be alright.

And that haze is gone.

And it's clear.

Real.

And I'm gonna be okay.

Bella.


End file.
